


Drums of War - Prologue

by FilthyHabition



Category: Drums of War - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Death, Drums of War, Futuristic, Im uncreative, Other, Science Fiction, War, idk - Freeform, lots of death, science shit, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilthyHabition/pseuds/FilthyHabition
Summary: Deserter, Murderer, Thief. All could describe Commander Fkeri. Yet she would not be branded a liar. Landed into a post-nuclear war ravaged USA, Fkeri naviagates the wasteland, facing challenges forced onto her from politicians to scavengers. Plagued by her militaristic past, the Commander seeks to find who betrayed her- if she can manage to find anything but radioactive dust.





	Drums of War - Prologue

**Drums of War**

**Prologue**

I slammed my fist upon the side of my visor, the chipped blue screen flashing warnings and errors before my wild green eyes. Dirt, grit, and most likely blood dazed my vision, so reading the messages was nearly impossible.

    "Rhea Squad, status now!" I'd shout into my visor's earpiece, the clatter of rifles and mines impacting the sun-baked earth fazed my hearing, making the voice upon the other side of the COMM a muffled mumble.

    "Rhea, repeat!" Irritation flooded my veins, filling my frame with a shot of adrenaline. I proceeded to shoot my .32 caliber pistol towards the front lines of the fray.

   I received no responses for several unbearable heartbeats, until a piercing crackle resonated through the earpiece.

    “-mander! Commander, connection is established, but it’s impromptu. We have men down, Charlie is lost-” Static crackled annoyingly. “-ET DOWN! -nemy Air Support inbo-” 

The symbol of a lost connection faded on my visor. With the quakes that shook the earth beneath my feet, undoubtedly a bombing run, I understood. Entombed in rage I stepped forward, my face twisting in blind fury as I ripped the black visor from my hair. The short red locks flew from my face as the carbonite head piece smashed into the dirt. My eyes locked on the shattered equipment, gazing for several moments as the realization hit me.

Another squad lost.

This would mark four.

Four squads, dead under my command.

Twenty-four young men and women per squad..

The world seemed to just _ stop _ for a moment.

A scream of broken wrath ripped itself from my lungs as I fired my heavy pistol into the smoke. Returning gunfire blazed past my advancing body. A round clipped my ear with a deafening flash, and my face twisted in a dazed throb of pain. The feeling flowed through my body, but felt numb like ice; abnormally cold in this Russian battlefield.

I fired another barrage, the sight and scent of smoke filling my senses. Without warning, mortar shots drumming into the earth and the static of gunfire screeched to an abrupt halt as a ball of flame streaked through the sky.

An attack helicopter, one of our own, was spinning out of the pilot's control, rushing into the earth at a pace that could not be stopped. It would inevitably crash. Soldiers scrambled, trying to predict which front it’d collide into. Russian and English curses alike flew up above the firing of weapons and ballistic impacts hammered the earth.

As it neared the ground, men and women on both ends of the bloodied battlefield raised their eyes to watch in terror at the helicopter’s screaming descent, some fleeing from the grounds for cover while others took the distraction to gain the front lines. 

I remained still. The world ground to slow motion as the Helicopter neared impact.

If that vehicle hit any man on this field, they would be instantly incinerated.. Damaged beyond repair. And what about armor? Tch. The Government was too cheap to afford real armor for soldiers. I gazed down, mesh and metal armor protecting my body.

It would melt into my bones.

My eyes followed, the metal fire rushing towards my 10*, a soldier of a neighboring troop crouched as he continued to engage the enemy.

      "SOLDIER!" I roared, realizing this man would be blown away by the impact and meet a scorching death if he didn't move.

      "SOLDIER, MOVE!" My strained voice was unheard by the doomed soldier, his rifle continuing to clatter into the Russian front. An uproar of shouting rose from the opposing side, the language well known by my educated ears. There was no time to contemplate their panicked words, as I focused on what I was about to do.

I threw myself forward, breaking into a sprint as I heaved the soldier aside, hearing a shout of confusion as his body slammed into the earth. As the chopper crashed into the dust, I was crushed, an agonizing cry torn from me as bones shattered and flesh burned.

And with a sound that seemed like a drum, my world of fire slammed into darkness...

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N- ‘10’ is used often in militaristic scenarios to describe the location of an object in relation to a standard clock, the person being in the center. So; ‘12’ being directly in front, ‘6’ being right behind, and so on.

**Author's Note:**

> {New work- Not a fanfiction. First Novel by Author. Ongoing.}


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